


Nocturnal Emissions

by procrastibator



Series: Sweet Dreams [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Blow Jobs, Consensual Underage Sex, Feminization, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Incest, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mutual Pining, Sibling Incest, Somnophilia, Underage Sex, Voyeurism, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-09 12:50:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4349477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/procrastibator/pseuds/procrastibator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little Sammy wakes up in the middle of the night with wet underwear. Dean is an awesome big brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Captain Underpants

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own the Winchesters. If I DID – the show would be a lot hotter! Also, huge fan of the boys but new to shipping.

Dean woke up in a mild panic. _Sammy!_ Before he could spring out of bed or yell for their dad, he felt Sam’s insistent fingers pressed against his lips.

“Shhh,” Sammy panted, “please don’t wake up Dad.” Dean nodded and Sam’s trembling fingers retreated to his brother’s chest where they fretfully tugged at his shirt. Sam was super-glued to Dean’s side in the darkness. His warm breath hit Dean’s cheek as he worked to calm down.

“What’s wrong?” Dean whispered. “Did you have a nightmare or something?”  Sam had been having nightmares since before Dean could remember and they only increased in frequency after their father had revealed the truth about the existence of the supernatural. The werewolf hunt hadn’t helped. Turns out that kind of thing can scar a twelve-year-old for life. For the last year and a half Sam had taken to sleeping in Dean’s bed when they were in a town for a hunt. Lately, that was pretty much always.

Sam’s expression was anguished. He chewed his lips and plucked nervously at Dean’s shirt. “No,” he mumbled. “Something happened.” Just then, a woman’s cackling laughter drifted through the wall, followed by a thump against the wall and some male murmuring.

Dean rubbed the sleep out of his eyes with one hand and stroked the back of Sammy’s head with the other. “It’s okay, Sam, everything’s fine. Just another rowdy motel. You know Dad would be up in a heartbeat if we were in any danger.”

Sam rolled his eyes impatiently. “It’s not that, Dean!” he dropped his voice when their dad huffed and rolled over on the other bed. “It’s not that,” he whispered, “Something…” he blushed. “Something came out of me.”

Dean couldn’t suppress his groan. “Aww, come on, Sam. You’re a little too old to piss the bed, man.” Now that he took the time to process his brother’s closeness, he could feel how warm and wet his own thigh was against Sam’s pajamas.

“No, not piss, you jerk. I woke up because I was having this, I don’t know, like a weird tingly feeling, and then…and then…stuff came out.” Sam shut his eyes tight and made a soft whimpering sound. “Down there,” he said like it was torture.

For whatever reason, instead of revulsion, Dean felt laughter bubbling up inside him. He had to fight to keep it in check. _Aww, Sammy. You’re a little man now, aren’t you?_ Dean had been having sex since he was Sam’s age, but being raised by the same man didn’t mean they’d been raised the same way. Dean had had to swallow the harsh truths much earlier and so he’d always been worldlier than Sam. Dean loved his brother’s innocence. In some ways, Sam held onto it for both of them. It wasn’t without challenges though. Jumping from town to town didn’t exactly leave time for friends, first crushes, or health class. Dean had been the first person Sam told when he started sprouting pubes. It seemed he was ready for another talk.

Dean attempted to reel in his brotherly need to poke fun at Sam’s predicament. Yeah, the kid had just come all over his thigh, but he knew how sensitive his little brother could be. He cleared his throat gently. “Did it…feel good?”

Sam paused to think. “I don’t know,” he finally said. “Maybe. It all happened so fast. What is it, Dean?”

Dean grinned wide. “It’s a gift, Sam. The best damn gift you’ll ever get.” He paused. “At least until you get laid,” he amended. Sensing his brother’s frustration, he quickly went on. “You know all those boners you get? Don’t make that face, Sam. I share a bed with you and I’ve felt Capt. Underpants poke me in the back more than I’d like to think about.” He chuckled as Sam thrust his shy face toward Dean and tried to burrow under his arm. Dean couldn’t resist combing his fingers through Sammy’s soft and too long hair. Now that his little brother was on the cusp of manhood the days when he’d let his big brother coddle him would soon fade away.

“I’m not the only one,” Sam hissed as he lifted his head. “’Sides, it’s not like I can control it.”

Dean had the decency to blush a little too. He was only sixteen, almost seventeen, and boners were pretty much an everyday, all day occurrence. It didn’t help that Sam was all soft skin and rounded limbs, or that he liked to cuddle up on Dean’s chest in the middle of the night. Bottom line, he couldn’t help it much either. “Anyway,” he went on, “about _your_ boners. I guess you’re old enough to start having orgasms now.”

“What?” Sam asked, incredulous. “I thought that was for sex. You said I’d have to wear a condom to keep from getting girls pregnant and stuff. You didn’t say I was going to start shooting stuff out of my wiener in the middle of the night.

Dean couldn’t hold it in any longer, he started laughing—hard. He turned toward Sam and hugged him as he tried to muffle his laughter with Sam’s shoulder. After a minute or so, he calmed down and sighed. “Dammit, Sammy—you’re going to be the death of me one day,” he said softly next to his ear. He placed a reverent kiss on Sam’s temple before he rested his head back on his pillow. He met his little brother’s smiling eyes as they both lay on their sides.

“You’re weird sometimes, Dean.” Even in the semi darkness, Sam’s dimples lit up his face. “It’s not like you’re that much older than me. You should talk to me like a man, like how you and Dad talk to each other.”

Dean pressed his lips together and smiled. “You should stop calling your dick a wiener then.” Sam jabbed his brother in the stomach and the two of them started wrestling beneath the covers. “You’re going to wake up Dad, you little bitch.”

“I’m not a bitch, you’re a jerk!” Sam said. He grabbed ahold of Dean’s nipple and pinched.

“Ow!” Dean started to use his real strength to fend off Sam. He may have just busted his first nut, but he sure as hell was strong. Still, it didn’t take long for Dean to overtake the other boy; he’d had too many years of practice wrestling Sam. In no time at all he had Sam’s back pinned to his chest with Dean’s arms and legs wrapped around him so he couldn’t move. “You think you’re man enough to take me? Dream on, little brother, you’re still my bitch. I bet you still have that load in your tighty-whitey’s.”

Sam struggled with all his strength, inadvertently rubbing his ass against Dean’s crotch. “Shut up! You’re just jealous cause mine’s bigger than yours.”

“You wish, Sammy.” Dean playfully bit Sam’s shoulder repeatedly, an act that never failed to get the younger boy squirming and struggling.

“De…please…please…come on.” Sam’s pants and hysterical breaths were muffled into the pillow. He and Dean were always aware of their father and what would wake him.

Dean paused long enough to let other boy catch his breath, just a little. He spoke into his ear while he waited to resume his torture. “You’ve never seen it hard. Trust me, it’s awesome.”

“I have too seen it!” Sam nudged Dean’s chin with his head. Dean grunted but held on.

“When?”

Sam stilled in Dean’s arms. “Let me go. I don’t want to play anymore.”

“No way! Tell me when, and then I’ll _think_ about letting you go.”

Sam sighed heavily and licked his lips before he spoke in a low voice. “A week ago. Ohio. You had sex with that girl in her living room.”

“You watched me?” Dean whispered into Sam’s ear. “You said you were going to stay in the basement and play on her foosball table.”

Sam shrugged. “I lied. I wanted to see what the big deal was about.”

“And?” Dean said through a charmed smile.

“I-I don’t know. You’re going to make fun of me.” Sam nestled deeper into Dean’s arms, seeking comfort. Dean provided it by squeezing him a little tighter.

“No, I won’t. I promise.” Dean’s heart was racing. He and Sam had never talked like this; like honesty was currency and they could afford to throw it around.

“It…turned me on. My w- _dick_ got hard and I felt like I had to do something, so I started rubbing it.” Sam’s voice dropped and he began gently rolling his hips, not truly conscious of what he was doing to his brother behind him.

Dean gasped for dramatic effect. “You little pervert, Sammy,” he said without bite. “Did you come? I know we did.”

Sam chuckled and shook his head. “I kept getting this feeling like something was gonna happen, but it never did. I tried later too, but same thing.”

“You poor bastard; I remember those days. Vaguely,” he amended, unable to help himself.  His mind flashed with images of Bethany’s big tits bouncing in his face as she rode him, but it was the idea of Sam jerking off in the background, watching Dean disappear into that warm, wet flesh, that was doing strange things to him. “Is that what you were dreaming about?” Dean said softly against Sam’s hair. His eyes wouldn’t stay open as pleasure crept over him, followed by guilt. He started to pull away from his brother when two strong hands held him in place.

“If I say yes, you won’t be mad?”

“Why would I be mad, Sammy? She was hot!”

“Yeah, but isn’t she like your girlfriend now or something?”

Dean laughed. “You’re such a girl, Sam. Having sex doesn’t always mean you’re in love. Sometimes you just do it because it feels good.” He leaned into his brother and whispered seductively into his ear. “And she felt _really good_ , Sammy. Pussy is amazing.”

Sam let out a keening sound from his throat and wriggled against Dean. “What’s it like?”

“You want a bedtime story?” Sam nodded and slid his fingers between Dean’s to keep his arm around him. Beneath their joined hands, Dean could feel his brother’s heart fluttering like a little bird in a cage. “She was trying to put me down gently at first. She said I was too young and she was too old for me. They always say that, Sam, but they never mean it. The truth is they want me to make them feel young.

“I made sure to tell her I’d been with older women before, that I love how uninhibited they are, and how much better they are than girls my age who guard their pussies like state secrets. There’s nothing wrong with two people making each other come, I told her.” Sam shifted against him, his body heat radiating off of him and making Dean’s chest slick with sweat.

“I can see her nipples are hard through her shirt and I decide I can’t waste time—after all, my little brother’s waiting for me downstairs,” he said through a grin, “So I step up to her and put her hand on my dick.”

“No way!” Sam said in hushed surprise.

Dean laughed. “I sure as hell did. Once she could feel how hard I was inside my jeans, _and_ how impressively huge I am, it was a done deal, Sam. Next thing I know, we’re on the couch and my fingers are buried inside her pussy. You wanna know what it feels like, Sam. Pussy is wet. Oh. God. And so fucking warm.”

Sam groaned deep in his throat and pushed Dean’s hand lower on his belly. “I…I have a boner again. And so do you.” Sam’s breaths were coming faster and his movements had gone from innocuous to pleading. They matched Dean’s.

“What is it you want me to do about it, exactly?” Dean’s mind provided a myriad of options and none of them were brotherly.

Sam spun around in Dean’s arms and put his hand on his big brother’s erection. Before Dean could express his shock, Sam placed Dean’s hand on himself in the exact same place. “Please, Dean?”

Dean’s mouth was slightly agape with pleasure. He still had enough sense to know how completely messed up the situation had become. He had to put an end to it. “Sammy—” he began and was cut off by his brother’s insistent fingers against his lips once more.

“You said there’s nothing wrong with two people making each other come. Why will you do it with her and not me? You don’t even love her.” Farther down, Sam was already working his hand down his big brother’s pants and into his underwear where they found his throbbing cock.

“Oh. God,” Dean groaned. “We’re brothers, Sammy. I’m not supposed to love you like that.” The truth didn’t stop him from thrusting into Sam’s eager hand. Nor did it stop him from squeezing Sam’s smaller, but admittedly large for his age, erection in return.

“Mmm,” Sam moaned. “It feels so good, Dean. Please don’t stop. Just once,” he pleaded.

Dean had never been able to deny Sam when he wanted something badly enough to beg. Neither of them had much, no mother, no friends, no money, no home, and a dad who was gone most of the time—but they had each other. Without Sam, Dean couldn’t survive and he knew Sam felt the same. There wasn’t anything Dean wouldn’t do for his beautiful baby brother—even jerk him off.  “Just this once, Sammy.” He pushed his shaking fingers into the younger boy’s pajamas and wrapped them around the hot, hard, sticky, and velvety flesh pulsing inside.

Sam’s hips jerked, unintelligible sounds pouring out of him as he erratically fucked in and out of Dean’s skilled grip. “IloveyouDeanohgodIloveyou.”

“Shh, Sammy.” Dean whispered through gritted teeth as he tried to keep it down so they wouldn’t wake their dad.  Dean’s own movements had picked up in speed and intensity. “You feel good too.”

“More,” replied Sam, just as soft and just as urgent. “I feel it, Dean.” Both brothers increased their pace at the same time, each one racing toward orgasm, each taking heed of the other’s pleasure.

“That’s it, Sam. Come for me,” Dean said.

A few minutes later, Sam did as Dean requested. With his mouth sealed against his brother’s chest to subdue his moans and his hand still tugging on Dean’s cock, Sam shot his watery load and experienced his first taste of true pleasure. He hadn’t yet come down from the high when he felt Dean’s semen, warm and thick, spurt over his fingers as his cock pulsed in Sam’s tenacious grip.

For a long while they simply lay panting in the dark, hands in each other’s pants, covered in each other’s come. Then, resigned but content, Sam whispered into the intimate space between them, “You can say it, Dean. Yours is way bigger.”

Dean chuckled softly before he reclaimed his hand and pressed a kiss to Sam’s sweaty forehead. “You’re huge for your age, Sam. You’ll grow.” And then, because the big brother in him couldn’t help it, he added, “Never bigger than me though.”

“Jerk,” Sam huffed.

“Shh. Go to sleep, Bitch.”


	2. The Next Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For 'Theboys'-- thanks for being my first comment.

The next morning, it was business as usual. The boys had surrendered the comfort of one another’s arms sometime during the night and rolled over on their respective sides leaving their dad no reason to suspect anything untoward had happened as he passed them on the way to the shower. After dad, it was Dean’s turn, and then Sam’s. The youngest Winchester had a habit of showering until the last drop of hot water, so he always went last and took the longest.

“Rough night, kiddo?” John asked Sam as he packed clothes into his duffel bag. “Moving kind of stiff this morning.”

Sam mumbled something about loud neighbors on his way to the shower. Dean didn’t miss the way his little brother blushed on his way past him, nor did he miss the way Sam tugged against the front of his pajama bottoms. He smiled inwardly. Two dry loads in his fruit-of-the-loom’s had to chafe.

Dean still couldn’t believe what had happened between them the night before, but it didn’t stop him from jerking off in the shower, the smell of Sam’s cum on his fingers making him lose his load in under five minutes. Oh, he knew he was wrong. He could _feel_ how wrong he was. Sam was his little brother, his family, his best friend, and his sole purpose for living, but Sam was also his responsibility. Dean was supposed to protect Sammy, look out for him, and teach him things about life that didn’t revolve around hunting. Under no circumstance, was he supposed to touch his dick. And yet, the visceral _wrongness_ of what they had done turned him on so much that... _Werewolf leftovers, bloated corpse, Dad puking in a toilet._ Dean’s burgeoning erection softened. _Thank god._

“There’s something killing people in Rapid City, South Dakota,” John said. “New housing development built over an old cemetery.”

Dean huffed out a laugh. “Lemme guess, ancient Indian burial ground? Has _no one_ seen _Poltergeist_?” He couldn’t help the way this chest expanded when his father laughed at his joke. John Winchester was a tough nut to crack.

“All the research says they moved the remains to the new cemetery, but the bodies buried there are so old I doubt there was much to move. My guess is they moved the stones and nothing more.” John slung his duffle bag over his shoulder and headed for the door. “I’m gonna go gas up and grab some breakfast. Be ready to go in twenty minutes. Tell Sam to get a move on. I want to be there by tonight.”

“Yes, sir,” Dean replied by rote. The second the door closed behind his father, Dean’s thoughts turned immediately to Sam in the shower and the knowledge he was most likely jerking off. Dean grinned at the memories of his younger self pulling his prick in every motel and gas station bathroom across the country the year he learned he could come. He suspected Sam would require a lot of bathroom breaks from here on out. Dean finished packing his bag and started gathering Sammy’s things; the kid had a tendency to stretch out in their motel rooms and end up leaving things behind.

Twenty minutes later, the Winchesters were on the road and on track for a late arrival into Rapid City. Sam was extra squirmy in the backseat, his long legs were restless, and more than once John had threatened to pull over and give Sam an attitude adjustment. Dean took every opportunity to look back knowingly at Sam with a grin and a taunt, “What’s wrong, Sammy? You got ants in your pants?”

“No,” Sam snapped and kneed the back of Dean’s seat.

“Stop kicking the seat!” John growled.

“But Dad!” Sam whined while wearing his Sam Winchester patented ‘my big brother’s an asshole’ bitchface.

“I don’t want to hear it, Sam. Take a nap or something, you’re driving me nuts. And turn around, Dean. Stop bothering your brother or I’ll make you switch.” Dean’s eyes narrowed on Sam’s smug smile, but he turned to face the road.

By the time they reached the town and checked into their latest room for rent, everyone was ready to crawl into bed and sleep for a week. They didn’t bother getting ready for bed, instead opting to peel of their jeans and settle under the covers in their t-shirts and underwear.

“Night boys,” John yawned from his bed. Dean attempted a reply. Sam was already unconscious.

-666-

Dean arched his back and shuddered from head to toe at the hot press of Sammy’s body against his. They had always moved together in their sleep; a dance perfected over an existence spent sharing the same air. They usually fell asleep with their backs to one another and sometime during the night Dean would seek out Sam’s softness. He always blamed his little brother for being the cuddler, however, Dean was the one who couldn’t resist his tactile nature. But, Dean would get heavy after a while and Sam would inevitably move to roll over and urge Dean onto his back so Sam could rest his head on his chest. Every now and again Sam would roll Dean onto his side and meld himself along his back. Dean always sighed and shuddered when Sam held him. Come morning they would wake up where they started. The steps were instinct; the way lungs know to work on their own.

After the events of the night before Sam’s body had new instincts and his arm lay covetously across his brother’s waist, his face pressed against Dean’s firm back. Something about listening to Dean’s breathing, feeling his body along his own, provided Sam endless comfort (on nights Dean wasn’t with him, Sam’s nightmares were bad enough to have him crying in his sleep).

Dean groaned.

Sam rolled his hips and encountered the warmth of Dean’s body all along his thighs, hips, and groin. His cock fit perfectly between the rounded cheeks of Dean’s ass. Sam made a series of whimpering, needy noises. His narrow hips shifted up and down and the hand on Dean’s stomach pressed in and down, urging the older boy closer. Closer. Harder. Faster. Closer still.

Dean, in turn, rocked his hips back, and down. Closer. Harder. Faster.

After some time, Dean’s mind struggled for consciousness. He realized on some level things were not as they should be, or at least, not as they usually were—but his body told him everything was exactly as it needed to be. He felt so good, so… _right._ Dean’s body trusted Sam’s, yielded to Sam, and nothing ever felt better.

Sam had never known a world that didn’t have Dean at its center. Dean was his very own superhero; he was strong, brave, handsome, and a slayer of evil. Sam would do anything, be anything, give anything, for Dean. _Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean._ He pressed his cock deeper into the warm crack of his brother’s ass, rubbing harder and faster… seeking.

Dean’s eyes began to flutter open. His dick ached and his balls felt heavy. _Oh. Fuck._ Dean moaned softly as his asshole was nudged; his underwear stuffed into his crack. Lust rolled over him and his body rocked back. “Sam,” he whisper-groaned, “wake up.” Sam’s arm tightened around him and although Dean was fully awake, he couldn’t stop himself from reaching back to cup his little brother’s skinny thigh just under his thrusting ass. Sam’s whimper’s vibrated through Dean’s back.

Dean had been with lots of girls, but never any guys, and he’d never played with his butt before. Having Sam’s cock wedged between his cheeks and grazing his hole was doing things to him he’d never felt before. His dick was so hard he could feel copious amounts of precum sliding toward his drawn up balls. He wanted to touch himself almost as much as he felt the sudden urge to pull his shorts down so Sam could really get at him. But it was wrong. Wrong! “Sam… please.”

Sam’s body was coated in a layer of damp sweat. Whatever kind of dream he was having, it was the best. He wanted more. More of the incredible feeling pumping through his veins. More of the driving pulse pounding at the base of his skull that controlled the blind rhythm of his body. More of the perfect pressure surrounding his dick. More of the pillowy weight banging against his nuts. More of the greedy sounds that met his ears thrust for thrust.

Sam’s fingernails dug into Dean’s stomach at the same moment Dean felt his little brother’s cock twitching against his asshole, drenching it through two layers of threadbare underwear. He bit his lips to keep from shouting. _Yes! Fuck, Sammy. Come on me!_ He pushed back into the younger boy’s rutting and finally took hold of his own cock just in time to catch all his own come as it shot out in spurts over his fingers.

“Dean?” Sammy whispered, awakened by the force of his orgasm. He took instant notice of Dean’s ass and the way his dick was buried in Dean’s crack. He pushed out another pulse of come that had him moaning and grinding himself in the mess. Dean’s moan raced down Sam’s spine.

“Go back to sleep, Sammy,” Dean panted softly and pulled his come-coated fingers out of his shorts and wiped them on the mattress before reaching back for Sam’s thigh.

Sam sighed against his brother and left his dick right where it was.


	3. Security Blanket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JUST finished this and wanted to post it before I get on with my busy weekend. I hope you enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. I apologize for any errors AND for the change in tense--that's what happens when I step away for a few weeks. If there's anything you'd like to read, feel free to leave a prompt. I'd love to flex my creative muscles (and I'm a whore for comments). :D

It turns out the thing killing people in Rapid City is a witch and not, as they all suspected, an army of disturbed ghosts. However, what the hunt lacked in necessary grave digging, it more than made up for in terrorizing dreams. The Winchesters have had very little sleep the past five days. John had been plagued by dreams starring the Yellow-eyed Demon. Dean was up in a panic over a kidnapped Sam. And Sam… didn’t bother closing his eyes until after the witch was put down. The poor kid has been sleeping (and whimpering on and off) for over eighteen hours. Dean _hates_ witches.

“Your brother still sleepin’?” Bobby’s gruff voice startles Dean from his daydream of spit roasting that witch alive for making him live through the hell of believing he’d never see Sam again.

“Yeah,” Dean sighs. He can’t make himself leave the room for any significant amount of time. All he wants to do is stare at his baby brother, keep him safe, and maybe soothe himself in the process.

“Must’ve been a hell of a curse. Your dad keeps nodding off but won’t go to bed. Lookin’ pretty tired there yourself, kiddo.” He pats Dean’s shoulder, fingers curving to dig into the knotted muscle until Dean finally relaxes and his shoulders drop.

“Can’t sleep, Bobby.” He pointedly looks at the other twin bed, the one that feels miles away from Sam. “I want to be here in case he needs me. You know how bad his night terrors can be.” As if on cue, Sam lets out an aggrieved sob that sounds a lot like his brother’s name. Dean’s fingers curl into fists. “Wish dad had let _me_ kill that witch.”

Bobby sighs wearily. “Killin’ is a man’s burden, Dean.” He pats Dean’s shoulder again. “Best you enjoy being young while you can.” He chuckles at Dean’s glare, the one meant to show Bobby how grown up he is but only accomplishes the opposite. The boy’s expression morphs into one of gratitude with Bobby’s next words. “Sammy needs his big brother, Dean—you ain’t so grown you can’t have a slumber party. I’ll head downstairs and keep your _old_ man company while you rest.”

Dean feels small in front of Bobby, small, and young, and protected. “Thanks, Bobby.” The gruff older man mumbles _‘you’re welcome’_ and waves Dean off as he opens the door to leave. Dean wastes no time in divesting himself of his pants so he can climb into the tiny twin bed with Sam. He will always deny it but he has a hard time sleeping without his little brother. If Dean ever had a security blanket, it was Sammy’s weight against his own, his even breaths in his ears, and his unwavering devotion. No one loved Dean as much as Sam, and Dean would do anything to feel worthy of it someday.

The moment their bodies come into contact it’s as though every muscle they’ve been holding tight relaxes all at once.

“Dean.” Sam turns toward his brother and arranges himself perfectly on Dean’s chest. Sam’s long spindly leg wraps itself across Dean’s and pulls the older boy closer while his free arm does the same over his ribcage. Dean indulges in his brother’s scent where it’s strongest; trapped beneath a mop of mahogany hair. He wraps his security blanket up in his arms, cards his fingers through that soft baby hair at the nape of Sammy’s neck, strokes his baby brother’s arm with his other hand. Dean sighs his brother’s name, _‘Sammy’._ And they sleep.

—666—

**Dean’s hand drifts down Sammy’s spine while one thought permeates throughout his mind: _This is all mine._ He rolls his hips and rubs his cock against his little brother’s smooth, hairless thigh. **

“Please, Dean. Just this one time.” Sam’s eyes are anime-wide in the darkness, his pink lips turned up in a little moue. Dean thinks it’s the sexiest bitch-face he’s ever seen and is overwhelmed by the urge to kiss those tiny lips. Sammy whines prettily as he opens up for Dean and receives a soft lick across the inside of his bottom lip.

“Tell me what you want, Sammy,” Dean whispers into the damp air between their lips. He can’t help but groan over the way the younger boy blushes and pushes his smaller dick toward Dean’s hip—he’s rock hard and leaking. Dean shivers. “You’re so fucking sexy.” He licks deeper into Sam’s sweet, wet, mouth. “I wanna suck your dick, baby brother. I want to lick your hairless little balls and suck you until you come down my fucking throat.”

“Dean!” Sam cries into his big brother’s mouth. His narrow hips fuck against Dean’s hip urgently and the bed creaks like a rusty metronome with each thrust. Galvanized by Sam’s desperation, the older boy’s hand fumbles beneath the waistband of Sam’s underwear to grab a handful of pert ass. Sam moans loudly. “I want it, Dean. I want to fuck your mouth.”

“Oh, god.” Dean’s own dick throbs against Sam’s thigh and he can’t keep his own hips still. “Where’d you learn to talk like that, baby boy?” He knows perfectly well where Sam would have learned such language, but he likes to hear it.

“From you, Dean,” Sam whimpers and sucks the tip of Dean’s tongue gently. “I learn all the best things from you. You’re the best big brother in the world, offering to suck my dick. Oh god, and letting me fuck your ass crack. I wanted to shove it in so bad, Dean. I wanted to come inside you.”

**“Oh fuck, Sam.”**

Dean rolls over on top of Sam and rams his boxer-clad cock against his little brother’s trapped erection while he mashes their mouths together in a kiss that has lost all its gentleness. “I wanted to let you. I wanted to pull my shorts down and open my ass to your dick, Sammy. I’ve never done that before, never let somebody fuck me.” Dean’s hips pick up their pace and the hot press of Sam’s hard little cock against his own bigger dick is slowly unraveling him from the inside. “I’d do it for you, baby boy. I’d let you practice fucking on me.”

“Ohhhhh, De.” Sam says between sloppy kisses. Dean mauls the handful of boy ass in his hand and lets his finger drift toward the puckered rim of Sam’s asshole. Sam clenches. “Yeah, touch it.” He deliberately relaxes to lure Dean’s finger closer and then tightens up again. It’s like he’s trying to suck the tip into his hole. “I want you to show me so I can do it to you, De. I’m too scared to go first—never been with anyone but you.” Dean groans deep in his throat and the bed creaks like it’s about to fall apart under the strain of their humping. “Oh. Oh. Oh. Please…you’re gonna make me come, Dean.”

**“Dean. Oh god. Oh yeah.”**

**“Fucking come for me, baby boy…my Sammy.”**

“Come so I can taste it on your cock while I make you hard again.”

 **“Dean…please…I’m coming.”**  Only minutes before, Sam had been shocked out of sleep by the pressure of Dean’s finger against his asshole and being rolled onto his back. Sam's body had responded as it always has—by instinct.

Sam wraps his legs around Dean and undulates his lithe body in a rhythm passed down to mankind through time immemorial. He has no idea what’s gotten into Dean, he only woke up a few minutes ago when he felt a finger tracing his butthole and Dean rolling him onto his back. But damned if he doesn’t understand why every girl, boy, woman, and occasional man can’t keep from tracking Sam’s big brother the second he walks into a room. Dean… is a sex God.

“Sam,” Dean moans like benediction and his orgasm comes rolling up from his contracting balls to paint the inside of his shorts. He trembles and grunts as each pulse of semen drags him from the depths of his lust-filled slumber.

“It’s okay, Dean,” Sam pulls the older boy closer so he can feel every twitch of his cock, hear every pleasure induced whine. He strokes Dean’s sweaty back and urges him to keep rocking his hips by placing his heels on his butt and tugging forward. “Stay close to me,” he whispers. His dick hasn’t gone soft and he wants to come with Dean on top of him.

Sam’s dreams had been so terrible, filled with images of Dean bloodied, bruised, and dying while Sam stood by powerless to help. On a long list of deep seeded fears, losing Dean reigned supreme. He couldn’t stand it when their dad took Dean on dangerous hunts. Sam would often work himself up to such levels of anxiety while Dean was gone that he couldn’t keep anything down, but he always tried to have some food waiting for his brother when he got back because Dean was always ravenous after a hunt.

Dean, post-orgasm and fully conscious is on the verge of tears thinking of what he’s done. He wants to blame the witch for inducing the dream, for making him think of his beautiful little brother like that—like he’s someone Dean would ever sully with his perversions. But he can’t. He knows the real reason his heart is breaking is because his reality differs from the dream and Sam didn’t beg for this. Dean has officially molested his baby brother. “I’m sorry, Sam” He tries to pull away.

Sam panics. He can’t let Dean pull away; he’ll lose him, lose _this—_ whatever it is. “Please, De,” Sam whines. He knows his older brother is a sucker for his old nickname. Sam saves it for times when he _really_ wants something:

_“Please, De, will you play G.I. Joe’s with me?”_

_“Please, De, will you take me to the arcade?”_

_“Please, please, De, I wanna go to the movies. Promise I won’t sit with you and your date.”_

“Please, De, stay. You make me feel so good.” The answer is always the same.

“Okay, Sammy.” Dean holds his brother close, kneads the baby soft flesh of his ass in his sweaty palm and urges Sam to fuck against him. “I’m so sorry, baby boy. I didn’t mean to.” He kisses his brother’s cheek near his damp hairline. Sam’s still too young to stink, his sweat carries only a hint of salt and his scent still reminds Dean of wet earth after a cleansing storm. Sam is the purest thing Dean knows and he can’t. Fucking. Resist. No one else could possibly appreciate Dean’s precious brother more than him; no one else could love him more, be willing to sacrifice more, and be willing to do _anything_ to secure his happiness—than Dean. “Only if you want it, baby boy. Only for you.”

“Mmph.” Sam ruts against his older brother. “Can we move our underwear?” When Dean doesn’t immediately reply he adds, “Please, De. It hurts with the clothes in the way.”

“It hurts?” Dean sounds stricken.

Sam nods and whimpers like a puppy. Dean always fusses over him when Sam complains of something causing him pain. “Yeah, De, it hurts. The tip keeps catching on the elastic.” Both brothers look down to stare at Sam’s furiously red penis; it’s poking out the top of his underwear and coated in cum. Dean swallows audibly.

Dean props himself up on his free arm and retracts his other hand from behind Sam to pull his own shorts down to his knees. Sam wastes no time in lifting his behind to pull his briefs down as far as his spread legs will allow; he’s not releasing Dean for anything.

“Oh. Dean!” Sam’s head punches back into his pillow the second their dicks make naked contact. Dean is so hot, and so fucking big, and perfect, and _everything!_

Dean exhales slowly and settles his cock, his hips, his stomach, and lastly his chest over Sam. In all the time he’s been having sex, he’s never felt anything as intimate as the homecoming of his younger brother’s needy embrace. “Sammy,” he replies with awe and his cock valiantly fills again. Dean’s eyes take their fill of Sam, his long neck bared for Dean, and his pink mouth slack with pleasure. He wants to kiss him more than he wants to come, but he won’t ask for something like that—not Sam’s first kiss. Dean’s already taken too much. He settles for peppering Sam’s silky neck with kisses that have the younger boy mewling his pleasure and humping against Dean’s sticky, cum-soaked crotch.

“Mmm…oh…oh…mph…Dean. Oh, Dean.”

“That’s it, baby boy. Let me make you feel good and when you’re ready, you come for me.” Sam’s thrusts are overly eager, fast and uncoordinated, but Dean doesn’t care; it’s fucking adorable. He lets Sam do as he pleases, all the while committing every sound and move to memory. Dean never thought of Sam in this way, but now he’ll never stop.

“I love you, De,” Sam says in a voice that goes straight to Dean’s pleasure center.

“Fuck,” Dean wails. “I love you too.” Sam shudders and silently comes for the second time, drenches both their dicks and their balls with runny cum. “Oh god. Yeah! Such a good fucking boy, Sammy.” _This is all mine, my Sammy, mine!_ Dean comes while clutching Sam to his chest and sucking bruises onto his clavicle where their dad won’t see.

Dean never wants to let Sam go and Sam doesn’t seem inclined to release him. With any luck, they won’t have to talk about this. Ever.


	4. Nocturnal Admissions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No sex in this chapter but I hope you enjoy it anyway. I add to this work as inspiration strikes - prompts would help. Kudos and comments gobbled up by my muse on sight.

Dean hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in weeks, not since the daddy of all wet dreams caused him to molest his baby brother. _God._ He felt sick every time some sense memory triggered flashes of Sam’s bright eyes pleading up at him or his cute _almost_ -teen cock spurting between them. Cooped up in one cramped motel room after another, Dean was consistently accosted by his newfound incestuous lust. Sam, the annoying little shit, was adorable first thing in the morning in spite of— _because of—_ his rumpled hair that stuck straight up on one side and the way he groggily writhed in the sheets for several minutes while Dean tried to wake him.

Sam was less adorable, yet equally tempting, while making his _I-hate-morning-training_ bitchface. Dean couldn’t resist smirking while Sam angrily put on his sweatshirt and stumble-walked into the bathroom to forcefully brush his teeth. The sweatshirt used to belong to Dean and fit Sam like a short dress. His little brother often wore it on long car trips so he could hide his eyes beneath the hood and sleep…with his mouth open. Dean used to prank him by sticking whatever he could find in his mouth. Lately, he could only imagine what it might be like to kiss Sammy awake.

Sam grunted while he ran. He panted heavily when he stopped. He groaned when Dean urged him to keep going. After their morning run, dripping with sweat and smelling staunchly of wet earth, Sam was almost too much for Dean to bear.

_“Mmm…oh…oh…mph…Dean. Oh, Dean.”_

_“Oh god. Yeah! Such a good fucking boy, Sammy.”_

Much to Sam’s evident dismay, Dean decided to run all the way back to the motel with his heart thundering, trying to ignore the bounce of his heavy cock as it slowly filled with blood. He quickly shed his clothing and stepped beneath the cold spray of the shower. He tried not to think of Sam. Tried desperately not to use the cheap cucumber-scented conditioner Sam favored for his ridiculously long hair to jerk himself. He failed. He avoided eye contact with Sam as he brushed past him after his shower. He was too late to stop himself from inhaling though.

_“It feels so good, Dean. Please don’t stop. Just once,”_

_“IloveyouDeanohgodIloveyou.”_

“Move, Bitch, I’m trying to get through.” Dean groused.

“Whatever, Jerk.” Sam smiled so brightly Dean nearly shielded his eyes. And those damn dimples. Dean hated how much he loved those goddamn dimples. “You better not have used all the hot water.” Dean hadn’t used any.

The only relief Dean got from his dirty-bad thoughts of kissing his baby brother senseless as he fucked him soft and sweet were the seven hours Sam went to school. Dean didn’t usually go when their dad was out of town. He planned on dropping out next year and didn’t see the point in attending classes designed to prepare him for a future he would never live. He’d scored pretty well on some of the GED practice tests he’d been secretly taking. He didn’t like school but he wasn’t an idiot.

With Sam gone, Dean felt somewhat unburdened by his unwelcomed urges. He dozed for an hour or two on the queen bed meant for their dad (he discovered quickly that Sam’s scent clung to his bedding and more than once Dean had humiliated himself by fucking into it before housekeeping showed up to strip away the evidence). He ate lunch at the Denny’s in the adjoining parking lot. He researched anything his dad might find useful on his current hunt. And he kept a sharp eye on the clock because there was no telling what kind of trouble Sam would get into if Dean wasn’t there to pick him up at three o’clock sharp.

Dean made dinner around six: macaroni and cheese…with broccoli this time because although Sam had eaten it with the marshmallow fluff, Dean suspected Sam didn’t enjoy it as much as he did. What kind of kid didn’t like sweets? Sam _just_ stopped believing in the Easter Bunny for fucksake. Dean smiled at the memory of Sam scouting the parking lot for eggs every year. He’d be thirteen in a few months and there would be no more egg hunts. No more triumphant exclamations when he found the one with a dollar in it. Dean rubbed away the odd feeling in his chest.

“Thanks, Dean,” Sam said from across the small table in their room. Dean looked up from his dinner in time to catch Sam licking up cheese from the corner of his mouth. Seriously. It wasn’t fair. “D’we got any more?”

Dean gestured toward their tiny kitchenette. It was cheaper to leave the boys for a few weeks if they rented a room with a kitchen. “Made two boxes worth so help yourself.”

“Awesome!” Sam stood and came back with another full paper plate of food. “Thanks for making it with broccoli. Vegetables are really good for you, supposed to make you grow and stuff. Not like all those burgers and fries you eat.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I don’t know if you noticed, Sammy, but I’m practically all muscle. _Unlike_ you, string bean. Better eat more meat if you’re ever gonna grow up and start talking to girls.” Sam’s warm laughter bubbled up from his chest and he exposed the masticated mac and cheese in his mouth. Dean felt Sam’s laughter in his own stomach where it mixed with his simmering anxiety. Sam really was something else, something special and beyond comparison.

And then came night time. Sam kept up his adorable act every minute of every day. But the worst, the fucking _worst,_ was right before bed. Sam, scrubbed clean and warm from the shower, his hair damp and dripping at the ends, and with cheeks so pink Dean would swear he was wearing make-up, would ask Dean if he would come to bed. Dean pretended not to hear the hope in his little brother’s voice, or see the longing in his puppy dog eyes.

“Nah,” he intoned breezily, “Was thinking I’d go out for a bit.” He waggled his eyebrows lasciviously. He reached for his dad’s leather jacket—the one he’d taken to wearing out on the prowl because he _thought_ it made him look older. “The women in this town have never encountered the likes of Dean Winchester and you know what? It’s a damn shame, Sammy.” He braved a kiss to Sam’s head, refusing to inhale, and scooped up his wallet and keys from the nightstand. “I’ll be back by three.”

“Dean!” Sam whined and reached for Dean’s hand before he could clear the end of the bed.

Dean chuckled uneasily. “What, Sam?” He retrieved his hand gently from Sam’s. He didn’t need to ask what his brother wanted. He knew the same energy Dean had coursing through him had found a home in Sam too. Age be damned! Sam knew he’d been luring Dean for weeks. He was a Winchester and seduction was in their blood. Sam huffed and made a bitchface so classic, Dean had dubbed it Number Three: _stop-pretending-you’re-stupid_. It was the same face he made when Dean asked him what was wrong just after their father left on a hunt. Or when he asked Dean about the candy Sam was dumb enough not to finish and Dean denied having eaten it. Or…when it was obvious Dean was avoiding something. “It’s just a couple of hours, Sam. I gotta get out of here for a while.”

Sam’s bitchface dissolved into an expression far more effective at manipulating Dean’s emotions. The same face he wore when he hugged their father goodbye, or finished a homework assignment he’d never get to turn in, or missed out on making yet another friend. Sam looked up at Dean with heart-crushing acceptance.

“Okay, Dean.” Sam’s fingers curled toward his palm dejectedly. He crawled backward into the rumpled sheets and got under the covers with his back to Dean. “Try not to get too drunk,” he muttered. “Still need you to drive me to school in the morning.”

Dean didn’t want to leave. He wanted to crawl into bed next to Sam. He wanted to hold him and make up for all the heartache Sam had to endure on a daily basis. He wanted to kiss away the unshed tears he was sure lingered in his eyes. He wanted to stroke Sam’s hair as they both drifted into sleep. And he would have—if it were _all_ he wanted.

**—666—**

Sam had cried himself into a deep sleep after Dean left him. He awoke in the middle of the night with more tears clogging up his throat. In his dream, Dean and some faceless girl had laughed at him. They called him a freak. The girl wouldn’t stop rubbing her boobs all over Dean and reminding Sam he’d never be able to compete. Dean was tall, built, and beautiful. Dean liked _girls,_ not short, scrawny, and awkward little brothers who were so ugly no one would even kiss them. Sam sobbed.

“Sam?” Dean inquired sluggishly from the other bed. Sam went rigid and silent. “Sammy?” Dean tried again, more alert than before but not by much. Several tense minutes later Sam heard his brother’s breathing return to normal sleep mode.

Sam could admit it. He had a crush on his big brother and always had. The sex stuff—that was new. Sam didn’t know a lot about sex, it had always been more Dean’s forte, but he’d been worshipping his older brother since before he’d known the difference between his hands and feet. Sam had learned how to walk so he could trail after him. He’d worked hard with the shotgun because Dean was so proud of him when he hit the targets dead center. He spied on him at every opportunity because Dean was amazing at making friends and getting people to like him—especially girls. Sam had twelve— _and a half—_ years of experience as president of the Dean Winchester fan club. And his idol didn’t feel the same way about him. Sam sniffled but kept himself from sobbing.

“I fucking knew it.” Sam froze when he heard the sheets on the other bed being tossed and Dean’s heavy, put-upon sigh. In no time at all he stood next to Sam’s bed. The younger boy refused to turn over or acknowledge Dean’s presence. It didn’t matter. Dean lifted the sheet and shoved Sam over before settling in behind him. He smelled like their dad—like alcohol, leather, and stale smoke—it should be repulsive, but to Sam it meant comfort. “Come on, Sammy. Tell me what has you all worked up. Nightmare?”

Sam nodded. He didn’t want to go into details. He had Dean next to him and no matter what girl he’d left to hook up with, he always came back to Sam. He supposed it was enough for now. Someday…maybe… _hopefully_ …Sam would be tall, built, and beautiful. Maybe Dean would want him then. Or, Sam reluctantly mused, maybe Sam will have grown out of his crush. Maybe they’d go out looking for girls together? But Sam didn’t think so. Sam loved Dean too much to imagine loving anyone else. Maybe he _was_ a girl. “I won’t do it again, Dean,” he whispered raggedly.

Dean flinched. “Sam.” His concerned tone was all it took to crumble Sam’s already shaky control. He rolled over and planted his face on Dean’s chest and let the tears come. He clawed at Dean’s ribs in an effort to get closer than their separate bodies would allow and he shook them with the force of his sobbing. “It’s okay, Sammy. Everything’s okay. I’m here now. What won’t you do?” Sam cried harder.

“Sam. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.” Dean’s fingers burrowed into his hair and Sam arched into the touch, rubbing his entire body along the warm length of the older boy. He thought he felt Dean shudder. “Come on. Tell me.” Just when his crying died down, Dean would touch him in some achingly tender way and he’d start up again. Agreeing to never beg for Dean’s touches was by far the most difficult thing he’d ever have to do because he’d never wanted anything as much as he wanted to be kissed, touched, and comforted by the one person who could do it right. Life was really unfair to the Winchester’s.

It took a long while for Sam to form coherent words. But eventually, they came. He whispered his devotion into Dean’s chest. He confessed how beautiful Sam thought Dean was. How he’d always been jealous of the looks people sent his way. Sam sobbed as he expressed his wish to one day be as brave as Dean, as strong as him. Sam said he understood they were brothers and they weren’t supposed to do the stuff they’d done. …But…Sam just didn’t care. He loved Dean more than anyone, way more than the girls he slept around with, and Dean could do better. He told him how he’d been thinking a lot about his first kiss and how he wished Dean would give it to him, but understood he never would. Sam talked, and sobbed, and wiped his puffy face on Dean’s shirt. And finally, he went silent.

Dean hadn’t stopped touching Sam the entire time. One hand held him and twirled his hair while the other had left tingles in its wake as it traversed the hills and valleys of Sam’s prone torso. His thigh was secure between Sam’s and the younger boy hoped they could stay this way just a little longer, until Sam didn’t need it, just …forever.

“I—” Dean’s voice sounded raw. “I love you.” He squeezed the younger boy. “But you’re my little brother, Sammy. You deserve better than me.”

“Dean—”

“Let me finish, Sam. I know it isn’t fair. I know this hurts. I know it feels like the end of the world because I feel it too. I know it’s hard for you to make friends when all we ever do is stay for a few weeks, a few months if we’re lucky, but I’m telling you—you deserve better than the memory of your first kiss being with your annoying older brother.” He held Sam unbearably tight, as if he knew the words would lance Sam through. He was right. “Your first kiss is out there. She’s waiting for you to lay one on her. Maybe it’ll be forever, most likely it won’t, but you’ll remember it, Sam. She’s the one you want, not me. Anything you had with me would end up being another secret you’d have to keep.”

Sam inhaled a deep shuddering breath and released it slowly. Dean felt it too. He knew what Sam was feeling because he was feeling it too. Everything else he said was bullshit. Sam already had vivid memories of coming in Dean’s hand, of rubbing his dick against him, and of the look on Dean’s face when he came. He’d never forget. But neither would Dean. Sam decided he could work with that because if there was one weakness Dean had, it was his impulse control. If Dean said no when he _wanted_ to say yes, it eventually became a _hell yes_. Sam smiled wanly. It would take some work, but if there was one strength Sam had over Dean it was his persistence.

“Stay with me tonight?” Sam whispered.

“Of course, Sammy. Anything.” Dean’s kissed the top of Sam’s head. He inhaled deeply.

Sam smiled more confidently. Dean loved him. Dean felt like his world was ending because he thought he couldn’t kiss Sam. Dean, who had low impulse control and liked to snuggle in his sleep.

“Night, Dean.” Sam kissed his brother’s damp chest. Sam was very good at keeping secrets.


	5. The Tickle Monster

For the most part, things went back to the way they used to be. They were brothers and it would take more than a handjob and some rubbing to change that. The first few days after their heart to heart had been a struggle. Sammy had been a kind of sullen Dean had never seen before. He wasn’t whiny, or flippant, he didn’t make any bitch faces. If anything, he was agreeable. Everything was ‘Sure, Dad’ and ‘Okay, Dean’. But there was something, something in his eyes, Dean thought. It made Dean feel awkward in his skin. Sam was hiding from Dean, keeping his hurt where Dean couldn’t soothe it away, and it pained Dean deeply to feel locked out of Sam’s thoughts for the first time. Equally troubling, Dean couldn’t deny having to put on his own performance of an unscathed older brother who didn’t feel half desperate with the need to maul his baby brother with ravenous kisses. So yeah, the first few days were tough. They got through.

“Your brother still in the bathroom,” John asked as he chipped away at residue on the firing pin of his glock with his fingernail.

“Yeah?” Dean replied and pretended not to understand the real question.

John huffed and nudged Dean’s boot with his own between the two queen beds they were sitting on. “You know what I mean, smartass.” He smiled. “He’s been spending a lot of time in the bathroom lately. S’there anything I should know? About Sam?”

Dean’s ears felt warm. “Had to happen sooner or later.” He managed to make it seem like it was he and John that were sharing a secret instead of Dean and Sam.  When his father grinned, Dean grinned too.

“Little Sammy,” John mused and blew any residual powder off the pin he’d been cleaning. “Guess I’ll have to have a talk with him soon. Was hoping I still had a while yet, but I guess he’s older than you were when you first started locking yourself in bathrooms.”

Dean squawked. “Dad!”  John threw his head back and laughed as his eldest son went scarlet. Dean couldn’t help but think about the fact Sammy laughed the same way.

“Aww, come on, Dean. It’s like I told you: nothing to be ashamed of. It’s perfectly normal for a healthy boy to have urges.” John couldn’t help teasing Dean every now and again. Sometimes his eldest needed to remember he was still a young man who blushed at sex talk, even if he suspected Dean had had his fair share of grown up experiences. Speaking of…. “You’re using condoms, right? Every time?”

“Dad.” Dean said in all seriousness.

“Dean,” his father mocked.

“Yes, Dad. Jesus. No grandbabies, I promise.” Dean stood up and placed the freshly cleaned rifle next to the front door. “And as for, Sam…I don’t think you’ve got anything to worry about. He probably still thinks girls are gross.”

“Well I’m glad I won’t be a granddad any time soon. You keep it that way.” John nodded as he spoke. “As for Sam… I wouldn’t underestimate him. Lord knows I’ve made that mistake. Gonna have to watch him close while I’m gone, make sure he isn’t somewhere else when he says he’s _studying._ ” He gave Dean a knowing smirk. Dean predictably rolled his eyes. “And you wonder where Sam gets it.”

Dean was about to offer a witty and sarcastic retort when Sam finally emerged from the bathroom wearing a towel low over his narrow hips. “Where I get what?” he asked.

“Your big brother just rolled his eyes at me,” John huffed. “Reminds me of another boy I know.” John took pleasure in watching Sam reproduce the exact eye roll he’d been referring to. “Keep it up, kiddo. One of these days your eyes are gonna roll right out of your head.”

“That doesn’t even make _sense_ , Dad,” Sam sputtered, but he smiled fondly at his dad and brother. “What were you guys talking about?” He hoists his duffle onto the bed and starts digging out his underwear and sleep clothes. He surreptitiously takes out an extra pair of underwear in case he has to change them in the middle of the night.

“Dad was just asking if you’re still a virgin. I told him not to worry cause you’ll always be one,” Dean snarks.

“Dean! Shut. Up!” Sam looks mortified, blushes from his cheeks down to this hairless little chest where—Dean notices—beads of water are clinging near Sam’s tightened up nipples. Sam looks at his father for a brief second, then quickly away. “You’re such a jerk.”

“Dean,” John says in his no nonsense voice. “Apologize. Now. Sam, you know your brother didn’t mean anything by it. He’s whining because I embarrassed him.”

“I am not!” Dean grouses. “Sorry, Sammy,” he mutters.

“And you’re way too young for girls anyway.” John continues. “Being a virgin is nothing to be ashamed of, as Dean damn well knows.”

“I am _not_ a virgin,” Dean says. His eyes are still tracking that bead of water near Sam’s ruddy pink nipple as it breaks loose and races down Sam’s lean ribs and cuts left along the groove of his defined hipbone to disappear into the towel around his hips.

“God! Can we stop talking about it?” Sam gathers his clothes and hightails it into the bathroom and slams the door as petulantly as he dares, face on fire, tiny bloom of hurt in his chest. He’s not a baby! And they have no right to talk about his sex life, especially Dean. He rejected Sam and the younger boy hasn’t forgotten how much it stings. He knows why Dean did it, knows his brother loves him most, but he can’t help the way his heart races every night when they climb into bed together, or the way it plummets when Dean creates a pillow barrier between their bodies. _To protect himself from Sam’s kicking._

When he comes out of the bathroom John is absent from the room. Dean is lying on their bed eating a bag of chips and watching an old Western on the crappy TV. “Dad went out for a while,” he says around a mouthful of half masticated chips. He wipes his greasy fingers on his t-shirt.

“Figures,” Sam mutters. “Do you have to eat those in the bed? You’re getting crumbs all over the place. I have to sleep there too, you know.” He lifts up the tatty bedspread and shifts under the covers. He turns his back to Dean.

“Awww, come on, Sammy, you’re not still sore at me, are you?” He runs his chip and grease encrusted fingers through Sam’s freshly washed hair. He chuckles when Sam swats at his hand and gasps indignantly. “It’s not like Dad doesn’t know you’re a virgin.” He sets the chips down on the nightstand and rolls on top of Sam to trap him in the blankets. “Don’t even have all your man hair yet.” He’s anticipating the burst of energy from Sam and holds on tight.

It’s not a fair wrestling match, not with the way Sam is trapped on his side in the sheets. His arms are pinned to his chest, and Dean’s knees are shoved into his lower stomach and back.  All Sam can do is pedal his legs, squirm, and try to buck Dean off. His older brother is much heavier than he is and has the best possible position. Sam is a sitting duck. “Dean,” Sam pants between growls. “Don’t you dare.” He can’t fight the swell of giddy glee sweeping over him and a tiny smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“Oooh, there’s a dimple.” Dean dips his face down and sticks his tongue into the tiny dent. Sam makes a sound that is half disgust and half barely contained laughter. He pulls his face further toward the bed and the very tip of Dean’s tongue slides across his cheek and into his ear. Sam struggles with all his might. Dean has progressed to snuffling against Sam’s ear like a dog and raking his fingers over Sam’s cocooned body in search of all tickling spots.

“Dean…please…oh, god. Dean! I’m ser…I’m…I’m serious. Oh, god.” Sam is a squealing, panting, and flushed mess. “Ugh,” he growls, “you’re…Dean! So annoying!”

“You know you love it! Why you laughing, Sammy? Why you got these cute little dimples.” Dean bites at his cheeks with lip covered teeth. His warm, salty smelling breath is all over Sam’s face; he can almost taste the sour cream and onion. Should be gross; totally isn’t.

Sam is hard as a rock. Not on purpose, because he knows Dean wouldn’t like it, but he can’t deny the things that happen to his body, least of all when Dean is so close. It’s been all he can think about, and he’s tried his best to get over it, but he can’t. Dean is just too beautiful, smells too good, and loves Sam too well. Sam can’t get over it because why the hell would he want to? Sam decides to use the only weapon in his arsenal. He sticks out his slobbery tongue and snaps his head toward Dean and licks across his face. His tongue even dips into Dean’s nose.

“Eww!” Dean decries. “That’s disgusting, you little punk. Hope you got a booger.” Sam spits onto the sheet out of reflex. “Haha, didn’t think of that did you? Gonna really get it now. Gonna make you pee your panties, Samantha.”

“No…please…’msorry. ‘Msorry, Dean.” Sam wriggles in the sheets. Dean’s drawn up legs place his calf right between Sam’s legs and the younger boy can’t help rubbing his cock against it under the covenant of tickler and ticklee.  Even as he’s half panicked over the idea of losing control and coming on Dean’s leg, he can’t stop laughing, can’t stop chasing that delicious shiver, and has lost the will to fight it. He seizes up hard and starts to spill in his underwear.

All of Sam’s muscles lock up so quick and hard, Dean is worried he really did make Sam pee the bed. He stops tickling immediately. “Sam?” He’s panting. Sam is stronger than he’ll admit. “You okay?” He knows he may have pushed it too far. But Sam is still twitching under him, eyes screwed shut, brows drawn, and tiny lips sucked into his mouth where his teeth are biting down. His entire face is sweaty and flushed. Dean’s arousal slams into him like a poltergeist. Dean recognizes that look, hasn’t been able to get it out of his mind; hasn’t been able to forget the scent of Sam’s cum. Dean’s mouth surges with saliva, savoring the taste of little brother, and his cock swells along the filthy coverlet protecting Sam’s pubescent ribs. He groans, indulges in one little thrust downward. “Fuck, Sam,” he whispers.

“Sorry,” Sam whispers back and goes boneless beneath Dean. “It just happened.” Sam’s face is still red, but he’s got a little smile on his face when he shyly looks up at Dean.

Dean licks his lips and breathes deep, lets it out as a repressed shudder. He’s still got Sam pinned down tight with his legs and even though the number of layers between their skin prevent Dean from being able to feel Sam’s cock, he shifts his leg just to see Sam’s eyes flutter shut. He bends down toward Sam’s ear again and presses a tender kiss to the crimson shell of his ear before whispering, “You little pervert, Sammy.” He leans back and off to the side of the bed, one arm over his crotch as he reaches for the chips. “Better go rinse out those shorts or Dad’s gonna notice you’re not his baby boy anymore.”

“Shut up,” Sam giggles. He slides out of bed, back to Dean, and goes to change into his backup underwear. He’s grinning from ear to ear though, because his older brother was actually pretty cool just then.

Little does he know Dean is in their bed with a hand under the sheets fingering the quarter-sized wet spot Sam left behind so he can bring his fingers up to his nose, lamenting his inability to whip his cock out and jerk off in the few minutes it takes Sam to change his underwear. When Sam comes out of the bathroom and crawls dopily back into bed, Dean is still hard and aching.

“Why aren’t you under the covers?” Sam yawns.

“In a minute, Sam; movie’s almost over.” Dean shoves potato chips into his mouth and aggressively chews. The scent of Sam is strong on his fingers.

He jerks off over the sink after Sam goes to bed, his thoughts rampant with flashes of Sam’s rapturous expression. He climbs into bed with Sam after stealing a few pillows off his dad’s bed to shove against Sam’s back. Dean can only handle so much temptation.

Dean dreams of Sam that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter isn't finished. I'm going to add Dean's dream sequence, but idk how to draft a chapter without posting it. Does it still post the previous chapters? Sorry if that's annoying. Hope you like it.


	6. One Lick Leads to Another

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So...this is a little dubcon, but consent is given after the fact. Fair warning. Unedited or beta'd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Incredibly grateful for the comments and support I've received thus far. Would love to hear what you think of this scorching hot nastiness. I had a dream sequence planned to attach to Chapter 5, but then this happened. Enjoy! Perverts.

_“…Gonna make you pee your panties, Samantha.”_

_“No…please…’msorry. ‘Msorry, Dean.”_

Sam writhes beneath his weight. He’s trapped, helpless, and at Dean’s complete mercy. Dean feels drunk with it, wants to keep Sam like this forever, where he can do whatever he wants to his baby boy. Whatever. He wants. Dean wants so many things. He wants them all at once. He grinds his lust between creaking molars and presses Sam’s wrists down into the mattress.

There are no blankets, no clothes except the pale blue cotton panties Sam has on, and this is no fucking tickle fight. “Why should I stop?” The fingers of his right hand pinch and pluck at Sammy’s pig-pink nipple. Sam whimpers and spreads those gangly legs a little more, makes room for his big brother’s cock to wedge up against those panties. Bless puberty for the fact Sam’s nipples are puffy and sensitive. It’s like he has tits. Tiny little tits that Dean can’t wait to pinch and suck. “I think you like it, baby boy. I think you like it when I play with your baby tits. Can feel through your panties how wet you are.”

“Dean…please,” Sam moans and rolls his body toward Dean, straining himself. “I want you in me. I want it so much. Touch me…you’ll see.” He thrusts his hips along Dean’s cock, getting his older brother to give up streams of slick precum.

“Oh, yeah. That’s a good boy, Sam. Look so pretty in those panties baby. You really are my little bitch.”

Sam nods, “Yes, Dean. I’m anything you want. Just put it in. Fuck me, Dean.”

Dean groans, “Yeah? You want my dick in you, baby? Want me to fuck all that come out of you?”

“Yes,” Sam moans. “Want to come on your big fat dick.”

“Fuck yeah.” Dean latches on to Sam’s left nipple and starts to suck. He grinds his cock against Sam’s panties with all the force of his lust, pounding his little brother into the mattress until Sam’s knees are almost to his ears, he’s spread so wide for Dean.

***

The bed is moving when Sam starts to blink his eyes open. There’s a strange energy in the room and somehow Sam already knows what it is. His breathing is already deep. His heartrate is accelerated and his cock is hard. It’s Dean; he’s moaning.

Sam opens his mouth and pants through his arousal, sucking in the aroma of damp and horny Dean through his mouth and nose. It’s too much, Sam decides, to lie there in the dark while his big brother moans and humps against the mattress. He can’t take it.  He sits up slowly, legs spread, right leg dangling off the bed. He looks around the room. The clock on the nightstand says 1:00am. The bars are still open and their father won’t be home for at least two hours, longer if he picks up.

Sam’s hungry eyes land on Dean’s prone and writhing body. He can’t stop the whimper that bubbles out of him. No one but him should ever see Dean like this. He’s kicked off his side of the bedding and his black t-shirt has ridden half way up his back. His Yosemite Sam boxer shorts are bunched up tightly beneath the curve of Dean’s tight, round ass. His bowed legs are spread and when he thrusts, his ass jumps and tightens the fabric further. Sam thinks if he moves he’ll come all over himself.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing, not really…or maybe he does. Either way, he isn’t going to let himself stop the inertia of his insatiable want. Dean belongs to Sam. Always has. Always will. And so, with a hunter’s stealth, he carefully pushes all the blankets to the foot of the bed and removes Dean’s ridiculous pillow-wall from between them.

He means to just watch, give Dean the space he needs to fuck the bed; maybe touch himself while he’s at it. Surely, Dean wouldn’t begrudge him that, not when he knows Sam is helpless against his own body’s need to orgasm multiple times a day. But then....

“Sam,” Dean whispers and it’s a pained, protracted sound. It makes Sam’s balls tighten up, punches a whine out of him, and has him scrambling to get out of his underwear. Without hesitation, he lies down on his back next to Dean, presses up against his side and soaks up the scorching heat.

“Dean,” Sam moans softly. His head is in Dean’s armpit, his leg thrown over his older brother’s so he can feel the flex of his ass against his thigh every time he thrusts. Sam’s cock points straight toward the ceiling, too full of blood to lie flat on his belly. He won’t dare touch it; puts his hands under his own butt and spreads his legs wide to stave off the orgasm crouched in his balls. He likes the way the air feels against his asshole. He writhes and nuzzles his face against Dean, soaking up the scent of his brother where it’s nice and strong; smells like deodorant, sweat, and the unnamable fragrance of _Dean._ Sam would know it anywhere, could pick it out blindfolded in a crowded room.  

Dean keeps grinding against the mattress, flexing that sweet ass, pushing up with his toes. “Ah….ah… _fuck_ …yeah _._ ” Sam’s left hand flies out from under him and lands on Dean’s ass with a loud, unintended smack. “Mmm…mmph,” Dean moans. Sam is out of his fucking mind with it. He feels like one of the things they hunt—pure instinct—no morality.

Sam fists his brother’s shorts in his hand, making them obscenely tight, making Dean groan, and moan, and fuck harder into the mattress, jostling Sam in the process, making his dick slap, wet and sticky against his belly as the fucks the air. “Fuck, Dean. God…fucking…fuck.” He scrambles up onto his knees and it takes him exactly no seconds to decide Dean’s short need to come off. Sam has to see that ass! With all the impatience of his twelve and a half years, Sam tugs at Dean’s shorts. It’s not as easy as he hoped to get Dean out of them; his legs are too open and they’re probably getting caught on Dean’s cock too. Sam decides to roll Dean over.

***

“So sexy, Sammy.” Dean licks and sucks at one of Sam’s nipples as he gently rolls and plucks at the other. He wants them hard and cherry red.

“Come on, Dean! Stop messing around and fuck me already.” Sam smacks Dean’s ass and pulls him up hard. Dean’s reaction is visceral. He reaches for Sam’s panties, curls his fingers into crotch and shoves them to one side. On some level, Dean knows he’s dreaming, so when he discovers his brother has a pussy instead of a cock, he doesn’t register it as abnormal.

“Damn, baby boy…look at this pretty pussy.” He prods Sam’s petite slit with his fingertip, spreading all his little brother’s slick, pushing against the inconceivably tight opening.

“Deeeeean,” Sam wails. “Please.”

“Mmm,” Dean replies and sails downward toward Sam’s crotch. “Gonna tongue-fuck you first, baby. Been dying to taste you.” He fists the panties further to the side and opens Sam with his thumbs. He falls upon him tongue first, thrusting inside without preamble and sucking gently.  

_“Fuck, Dean. God…fucking…fuck.”_ Sam groans. It sounds far away. It’s part of the dream and not.

“Yeah, Sammy…mmm.” As Dean licks, sucks, and fucks his little brother’s pussy, his clit starts to swell. Before Dean knows it, he’s got a little cock in his mouth, filling him up and bumping the roof of his mouth. “Mmmm,” Dean groans. He likes this better; feels more like Sam, smells like him too—sharp tang of Sam’s come and the earthy scent of his sweat. Sam is fucking Dean’s face with abandon and all Dean can do is push down on his brother’s small cock to try and get it further into his throat.

_“Dean, please. Roll over!”_ Dean feels himself being pushed, tugged, and cajoled.

“Okay, baby. Come sit on my face.” Dean grips Sam’s hips and rolls them.

***

Sam can’t fucking believe he’s got Dean on his back, arms akimbo, hips churning, and his lustful breaths saturating the air. Dean’s cock is hanging, hard and leaking slick, from beneath one of the leg holes in his shorts, his balls look strangled in the fabric. Sam is struck dumb at the sight; a string of unbroken precum drips from the tip of his dick onto Dean’s thigh. Sam stares…and stares…and stares. _Taste it._ _No…I shouldn’t. TASTE IT._ More slick drips down onto Dean; Sam is practically painting his brother with it.

Sam shakes his head hard. What the fuck is he doing? He was just going to watch, that was it! But… _god…_ Dean’s dick is so big, and he’s wet too, almost as much as Sam. His mouth is dry but he swallows anyway, licks his lips…feels his asshole clench with fear and arousal in equal parts.

“Dean,” he says. He tries to convince himself he’s trying to wake his brother up, to ask permission first. The truth is he’s not trying very hard. He’s still whispering. He leans forward…slowly…full of guilt and steadfast determination. Dean said his name. He wants this. Sam is just…just giving his big brother what he wants. He’s just gonna lick it. _Just a little. One lick. That’s it. I swear._

Sam sticks out his kittenish tongue and gets close to the puddle of slick on Dean’s lightly furred thigh. He groans. He can smell Dean’s dick and _fuck_ the smell of him is stronger here, like it’s the source of all the Dean smell. _One lick. That’s it, Sam!_ He swipes across Dean’s thigh, gathers up all that precum, and swallows. Holy. Fucking. Hell. Sam’s brain short circuits. There’s no way he can’t have more of that. No way! He’ll do anything. He licks again and whines. He pushes his dick down hard between his legs to keep from coming. He licks again and again, until there’s no slick left on Dean’s thigh and he has no choice but to go to the source. His mouth latches on to the tip of Dean’s dick and he sucks. Dean jackknifes up in bed; hand on the back of Sam’s head and pushes down as his hips buck up. He releases a sound like he’s dying. Sam chokes on his older brother’s come as it fills his mouth and throat; some of it comes out of his nose.

Dean becomes aware of what’s happening somewhere in the middle of coming, but he’s unable to stop. He keeps fucking into Sam’s mouth, choking his little brother with his dick, and filling him up with come. “Sam! Sammy. Oh, god. Oh, fuck. Oh. Oh. Ooooh!” Either he falls back or Sam finally pushes him off…he’s not sure…doesn’t matter.

Sam coughs and sputters. There’s come in his mouth, in his throat…in his fucking _nose._ He swipes at it with his arm and gasps for breath. “Dean…Dean.”

Dean sits up to face Sam who is still between his spread legs. He pounds gently on his little brother’s back. “You’re okay, buddy. Just breathe…that’s it.” He’s very aware Sam is bare ass naked. He can put two and two together about what’s happened. Sam’s hard cock jumps with every cough. Dean can’t believe it, but he’s still hard enough to pound nails. “What were you thinkin’, huh?” He gathers Sam to chest until his little brother is straddling his hips.

“I don’t know,” Sam whines. “I just wanted to taste it!”

Dean has to close his eyes and breathe. “Jesus, Sam. You’re such a brat.” And that’s it; Dean has reached his limit. He grips Sam’s hips and pulls him down hard. He sits cross-legged with Sam in his lap and thrusts up against his little brother’s ass. “You’re lucky I just came, bitch. Now open up and give big brother a taste of that perverted mouth of yours.” He licks across Sam’s upper lip first and tastes his own come. “Mmm,” he groans. “You like that, Sammy. You like the taste of my come?” Sam humps against Dean’s stomach and nods. Dean pulls him closer and sucks Sam’s swollen bottom lip into his mouth. _Yeah..._ it’s just as sweet as Dean thought it would be. He carries on licking, tracing Sammy’s lips with the tip of his tongue, swallowing his brother’s moans from his wide open mouth, until he finally curls his tongue and dips inside Sam’s mouth.

“Mmmmmmm!” they groan in unison.

Sam is out of control. His tongue wastes no time delving into Dean’s mouth, licking the inside of his cheeks, tracing his teeth, and dueling with his older brother’s tongue. Dean can’t help but chuckle at how inept it is, but his lust mounts exponentially regardless. When Dean tries to pull away, Sam literally sucks Dean’s tongue back into his mouth. Their teeth clack together.

Dean gentles Sam with delicate touches to his back and soft strokes along his thigh until he can pull back slowly. “Easy, baby brother.” And he smiles against Sam’s lips when the younger boy thrusts against his stomach. Apparently, they both have a thing for the fact they’re brothers. “I got you, Sammy. I got you.” He places several pecks along Sam’s swollen lips until his brother settles down and his muscles go soft. “That’s it…nice and easy.” He licks across Sam’s lips, dips in and out gently…like they’re fucking. Sam opens his mouth a little, not as wide as before, and Dean sucks a little as he pushes his tongue back inside.

Sam whines pretty for him and spreads his legs. His hips start to thrust. Dean’s hands glide toward Sam’s ass and cup his cheeks to encourage the movement. “Dean,” Sam sighs when they pull apart. His hands cup Dean’s face. They press their foreheads together. “I couldn’t help it.” He ruts.

“It’s okay, Sammy. I forgive you…little pervert…you taste like my dick.” He can’t stop kissing Sam and licking the taste of his own come out of the younger boy’s mouth.

“Oh, god, Dean. ‘Msorry…you just…you were moaning. And…I wasn’t gonna…but then. Oh, Dean…you…so much in my mouth.” Sam’s head falls backward and Dean takes the opportunity to suck on his neck and lie them down. He’s not going to waste his chance to taste Sam back. “Dean? What are you…?”

Dean pins Sam’s hips and takes all three? Four inches? Of Sam into his mouth all at once and groans.

“Fuck!” Sam yells and starts to come. His hips snap up and down, unable to really move because of Dean’s hands. It doesn’t matter though, because Dean is sucking on his dick like he’s slurping up pie. All Sam can do is give it up, give up every ounce of come in his balls as he manages to come twice in quick succession. Dean doesn’t miss a drop, licks up every bit he didn’t get to swallow from his balls. Tongue bathes Sam’s nuts until the younger boy can’t take anymore and lies there limp and useless under his big brother.

Afterward, they kiss some more. Just because they want to.

John doesn’t notice the smell of spunk when he comes back drunk and crashes into bed.


End file.
